


Hell and High Water

by FreshBrains



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: Break Up, Community: femslash_kink, Drunk Sex, F/F, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, POV Amy, Pining, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karma always asks, and Amy has always appreciated that.  Karma would never jump into it, never surprise Amy or push her, she’s always been careful to never put her in that position.  But Amy has never been good at saying no to Karma, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell and High Water

**Author's Note:**

> For the The Sixth Annual Femslash Kink Meme Prompt: _Faking It: Amy/Karma: drunk sex_. 
> 
> Characters aged up to mid-twenties. If you're looking for fluff, look elsewhere!

“So, I brought Moscato,” Karma says, dropping two plastic bags on Amy’s beat-up coffee table, “Oreos, the ingredients for our ten-year-strong favorite snicker-doodle recipe, and that new Ben Stiller movie…”

“With the hot lead actress,” Amy finishes, a tired smile on her face.  “I knew you’d pick that one.”

Karma grins and gets up, heading to Amy’s tiny apartment kitchenette for a corkscrew.  “I know what you like.”  She still dresses like she did in high school, all short skirts, flowing tops, and spangled earrings, but she doesn’t look like she’s trying too hard or anything—it’s just Karma, she’s always looked like that.  Her hair is shorter, still in loose waves, and she has a tattoo on her ankle that Amy loves, even though it’s in Portuguese and Amy doesn’t know what it says and has never bothered to ask.

“Yeah, you do,” Amy sighs, leaning back on the sofa.  She’s tired, not really wanting or needing company, but Karma doesn’t really count.  She was in class all morning—Study of Gender in Horror Films, one of her favorite classes in the program—and babysitting Lauren’s kids all afternoon.  They’re well-behaved and hilarious—how could Lauren’s kids _not_ be a riot—but Amy’s still exhausted.

And Karma calling on her drive home to tell her she kicked Liam out of the house for the hundredth time really doesn’t make things easier.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Amy curls her legs up beneath her body and grabs the Oreos. 

“Nope,” Karma says, too chipper and too nonchalant, like she won’t be crying in Amy’s lap after two glasses of wine.  “Right now, I just need some best friend time.”  She pops open the wine and pours two glasses into plastic cups—Amy doesn’t own any nice stemware, her last girlfriend took it with when she moved out.  “Let’s drink to Amy and Karma, through thick and thin.”

“Hell and high water,” Amy says, knocking her cup against Karma’s.

Amy knows Karma too well, and sure enough, Karma is hiccupping out tiny sobs as the movie credits roll and the first bottle of wine is emptied.  “I keep thinking we’re just in a rough patch,” she says, trying to even out her breathing.  “All couples have them, especially since we’ve been together so long.”

 _Nine years_ , Amy thinks, _and the whole relationship has been a rough patch_.  “I know.  Just let it all out.”

“And then Maria had to leave you, and leave her damn _cat_ ,” Karma sobs, gesturing towards Amy’s ex-girlfriend’s cat Petunia, who sits inquisitively on the coffee table.  “Why does everyone _suck_?”

Amy smiles a little, carding her fingers through Karma’s coppery hair.  She was sad about Maria for a few days, sure, but there relationship wasn’t much.  They only lived together because Maria couldn’t afford the rent after her roommate moved out and Amy had a guest bedroom where she could store her boxes.  Besides, she sort of liked Petunia.  She was a better companion than Maria.  “You don’t suck.  And I don’t suck.  We’re the fabulous anti-suck team.”

“Can we fight crime?” Karma sniffles, and they both laugh, Karma crumpling the fabric of Amy’s sweats in her hands.  “Pour me some more,” she says, and gestures to the second wine bottle.

Amy obeys, yanking the loosened cork out with her teeth.

She feels her buzz swiftly sliding into drunkenness, but Amy keeps sipping the pink wine.  It isn’t very good, but it’s Karma’s favorite, and her lips are starting to go numb anyways.

“Remember when you had, like, a thousand of these stacked up on the living room DVR?” Karma points sloppily towards the TV, where an old episode of _Keeping Up With the Kardashians_ is on mute.  “Bruce was so not happy.”

“Yeah,” Amy says with a burp, “but he ended up loving them.”

Karma laughs, and they share silence for a moment, faces illuminated by the glow of the TV.  She rolls over slightly and looks up at Amy, her eye makeup smudged.  She smiles, biting her bottom lip.

“What?” Amy asks, smiling back, but her stomach drops.  She wishes it wouldn’t happen, that they could just curl up in Amy’s bed and sleep off the wine, but at the same time she needs it.  She always has.

“Can I kiss you?”

Karma always asks, and Amy has always appreciated that.  Karma would never jump into it, never surprise Amy or push her, she’s always been careful to never put her in that position.  But Amy has never been good at saying no to Karma, either.  “Of course.”

Karma leans up, lips sticky with wine, and her kiss is so sweet and familiar it’s like sinking into a warm bath at the end of the day, Amy’s muscles loosening.  She’s always been a sure kisser, her lips firm and knowing, and Amy usually lets her take the lead.

“I miss you all the time,” Karma murmurs, eyes closed.

Amy doesn’t know what to say, she so just kisses Karma again, cupping her wine-flushed cheeks.

Karma groans softly against her lips and breaks apart only long enough to sit up in Amy’s lap, knees on either side of Amy’s hips.  Her skirt rides up and Amy slides her hands beneath it, trailing her fingers over Karma’s smooth skin.  Karma shivers and sways a little, way past tipsy.  “Yeah, do it,” she sighs into Amy’s neck, breath warm, and Amy would never say no.

“Kiss me again,” Amy says, and Karma does, hard and sloppy, trailing kisses down her jaw and neck.  Amy slides her fingers beneath the elastic of Karma’s underwear, grazing the familiar, soft skin of her hips and thighs, drinking it in while she still can.  She stares across the dark room, vision unfocused, as she gently presses a finger against Karma’s clit.  The angle is awkward, she wants to yank Karma’s underwear down and off, but if they stood up they’d both fall on their asses.

“God, Ames,” Karma groans, her breath hitching a little at the end.  She squirms in Amy’s lap, hair tickling Amy’s cheek.  “I miss you so much sometimes.”

 _Then why do you stay with him?_ Amy closes her eyes, breathing in the smell of Karma’s shampoo.  “Yeah, me too.” She slides a finger into Karma’s cunt, already slick and ready for her, and squeezes her eyes shut tighter.

Amy wonders what it would feel like, sometimes, to have never met Karma at all.  She wonders if things would’ve been easier in high school, _after_ high school, dating guys and girls and figuring it out like any other queer kid rather than having the love of her life already right in front of her.  She wonders if it would’ve been easier meeting Karma in college or at some bar, seeing her and just _knowing_ without having to figure out labels and secrets and coming out.

But it’s never been like that, of course.  She and Karma will _always_ be complicated.


End file.
